


I'll Stop the World (And Melt With You)

by Two_of_Clubs



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Nothing Harmful, Reverse Wall Push, Wall Push Scene, it's all consensual, very light choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 16:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_of_Clubs/pseuds/Two_of_Clubs
Summary: Crowley wants to be in this moment forever. And then he is. The sound of footsteps is cut off abruptly and everything—inactive as it was before—is eerily still. It takes more concentration than Crowley may be able to spare, but he holds it for now. Aziraphale notices the change in their surroundings and looks up at him.“Did you just...stop time?” he asks quietly...Crowley is a demon. He's not nice. He's never nice. But what is he when Aziraphale's reaction to being pushed up against the wall in Tadfield Manor takes both of them by surprise?





	I'll Stop the World (And Melt With You)

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically an alternate ending to the wall-push scene from the TV show. It simply explores what could have happened if Crowley and Aziraphale's, ahem...intimate moment hadn't been broken up. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“You know Crowley...I have always said, that deep down...you really are quite a nice—”

And now Aziraphale is confused. Not a new concept really, as the angel does get confused about a great number of things. He’s not confused about  _ what  _ Crowley is doing—he’s shoving Aziraphale up against the wall as hard as he can, hissing, with a look of utter menace on his face. The angel isn’t confused about  _ why _ he’s doing this either. He’d known, deep down, that praising the demon with such kind words would elicit a response of this caliber—even if he didn’t realize just how  _ physical  _ Crowley would get.

Over the course of their 6,000 year residence on Earth, they’d continuously bumped into each other, both in a figurative and in a literal sense. It didn’t bother Aziraphale to have the demon touch him, it’s not as though it hurt. Their meetings always seemed to hold the occasional brushing of shoulders, mindless pats, and rare nudges for attention. They’d even kissed each other’s cheeks and carefully embraced each other, when and where that was the traditional human greeting custom.  _ This is certainly not a careful embrace _ , Aziraphale thinks as he wiggles slightly in the demon’s grasp.

“Just shut it!” Crowley growls, his nose brushing against Aziraphale’s. 

He’s  _ that _ close.

“I’m a demon, I’m not nice. I’m never nice!”

Crowley drives this point home by suddenly releasing the angel’s collar ever so slightly, just so that he can redouble the strength on his hold. He forces Aziraphale up against the wall so that the angel’s backside is completely flush with it, his head knocking against the wall. But Aziraphale doesn’t even notice the pain. He does, however, notice the way Crowley is pressing into him, their faces mere inches apart, and lets out an involuntary noise. The demon makes the mistake of thinking it’s because he’s scared the angel into submission.

“Nice is a four-letter word, and I will not be labelled by—”

The demon is cut off by a strange sensation he hadn’t been expecting. Not in the slightest. He feels a set of hands grabbing him, just under his ribs, and suddenly, he’s being whipped to the side. The next thing he knows, his head collides with the wall, a couple of feet down the hallway from where they were a second ago. The force is enough to knock his sunglasses onto the tip of his nose and Crowley vaguely thanks someone he’s immortal. A shove like that would have seriously injured a human being. His mind comes back to him slowly and he finds himself staring into Aziraphale’s eyes, beginning to feel the same confusion the angel is feeling.

Perhaps it’s from spending so long among the humans that Aziraphale has developed certain... _ responses _ . They say that when startled, a human adopts one of two courses of action: they either run away—flight—or they defend themselves—fight. Angels don’t really have these biological responses, but after more than 6,000 years of observing human behavior, one picks up a few things. Aziraphale doesn’t know why he’d felt the need to fight back against Crowley, it’s not as if the demon would actually cause him any harm. He trusts Crowley enough to know that. 

The demon’s golden eyes are blown wide with nervous anticipation, and though he really doesn’t need the air to survive, his chest rises and falls with increasing speed. And from this mutual confusion, Aziraphale feels a secondary emotion take over:  _ curiosity _ —among other things. It was a new and completely unexpected sensation, the feeling of being pressed against the demon, chest to chest and hip to hip. It makes the angel curious to know what  _ other  _ things pressed together might feel like.

Their feet are practically tangled together, the tops of their legs touching in a couple of spots. Their stomachs are mostly pressed together and Aziraphale wonders what it might be like to have Crowley arch into him. Their noses had touched only moments ago, and their foreheads could now easily be pressed together.  _ Almost as easily as their lips _ . Aziraphale’s eyes drift from Crowley’s shocked, yellow ones, so they can linger on the demon’s lips. A nervous forked tongue darts over them in a flash, before retreating back inside Crowley’s mouth.

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about pressing his lips against the demon’s before—and Aziraphale does not lie. The idea had come to him now and again throughout the centuries.  _ He couldn’t help but think about it, _ he supposed,  _ not after watching humans do it for so long _ . Aziraphale wants to know what it would  _ feel _ like, taking Crowley’s mouth with his own, and only because this was Crowley and not some stranger on the street. It was hard to spend more than 6,000 years with someone and not become more than a little  _ attached _ .

The longer he thinks about it, the worse it gets. Aziraphale’s curiosity is insatiable now. He  _ has _ to try it. He  _ has  _ to know. He  _ needs _ to know, for certain, if Crowley is just as curious as he is. His hands slowly make their way up from the demon’s sides, until they’re delicately cupping Crowley’s face. The harshness and brute force has worn off, and Aziraphale is just leaning into him, using nothing but the gentle press of his body to keep Crowley there. Still, the demon doesn’t try to break away.

“Angel…” 

He can’t get much further than that though, because the next thing Crowley knows, Aziraphale has closed the last few inches of space between them, and is desperately pressing their lips together. At first, the demon is stunned. He lets out a muffled cry against the angel’s lips, but Aziraphale doesn’t pull away. He moves his jaw slowly, tilting his head further to the side to capture Crowley’s mouth more firmly. The redhead feels something burst inside his chest, his own feelings of curiosity throughout his tenure on Earth being not only realized, but accepted in a matter of seconds.

Crowley’s eyes flutter shut as he moans against the angel’s lips. He kisses him back, letting his hands find their way to Aziraphale’s hips. He pulls the angel flush against him and the blonde is all too happy to press Crowley firmly into the wall once more. The demon encourages him wordlessly, pulling and tugging at him. He licks at the angel’s lips before lightly pulling away, teasing him until Aziraphale’s hands are planted against the wall on either side of Crowley’s head. 

Soon enough there’s a knee between his legs and his hips are held fast against the wall by Aziraphale’s. The occasional push of his palms against the angel’s chest has the opposite effect of what it should—Aziraphale presses himself more forcibly against the demon each time Crowley plays at trying to fight him off—until there’s nothing the redhead can do but writhe under the angel’s touch, completely trapped by Aziraphale’s body. The thought alone causes him to tilt his head back, desperately seeking air as his chest heaves.

Aziraphale takes advantage of the moment. He slides Crowley’s sunglasses off, miracling them away somewhere so that they won’t get in the way. Crowley’s breath hitches as their eyes meet once more. They stay like that for a moment, then Aziraphale leans in, his lips suddenly pressed against the sensitive skin on Crowley’s neck. He trails kisses along the side of the demon’s neck, pausing only to nibble experimentally at the lobe of his right ear. Crowley moans, loud and shameless, despite his best attempts to keep quiet. Suddenly, there’s a distinct  _ click!, click!, click! _ of someone walking down the hallway towards them. 

The demon mourns the possibility of the angel having to pull away from him. Crowley wants to be in this moment forever.  _ And then he is _ . The sound of footsteps is cut off abruptly and everything—inactive as it was before—is eerily still. It takes more concentration than Crowley may be able to spare, but he holds it for now. Aziraphale notices the change in their surroundings and looks up at him.

“Did you just...stop time?” he asks quietly.

“Uh-huh,” Crowley manages.

He grabs at the angel, letting his head loll back against the wall again.  _ He didn’t stop time for nothing, Aziraphale _ . Thankfully, the blonde takes the hint and continues showering Crowley with attention. His lips kiss, then suck at the center of the demon’s throat. Crowley’s knees give out a little, and he thinks his time-stopping miracle might too. One of Aziraphale’s hands cards through the demon’s hair before tugging a fistful of it. Not hard enough to cause any real harm, but oh, does it get Crowley’s attention. 

All manners of shameless, pleasured noises escape the demon’s lips as Aziraphale continues to work at him, tugging his hair and sucking at the base of his neck—all while keeping him pinned deliciously against the wall, the angel’s weight now the only thing holding him upright. Crowley manages to buck his hips at the angel, his fingers grabbing hungrily at the fabric of the blonde’s waistcoat. He wants more, he  _ needs _ more. He needs every inch of Aziraphale pressed against him in tantalizingly new ways. Crowley needs it so badly it makes his chest ache.

The angel moans against his skin as Crowley manages to unbutton Aziraphale’s waistcoat, sliding his hands underneath it. He tugs the angel’s shirt, untucking it from the waistband of his trousers, letting his fingers find their way to Aziraphale’s bare stomach. The blonde lets out a gasp and pulls his head away to look Crowley in the eyes. The redhead leans in, their lips crashing together. This time, their kiss is all teeth and tongue and growing desire. Crowley growls as Aziraphale bites his bottom lip.

He starts to rut his hips forward, demanding even more from the angel. Crowley is met with no objections, however. In fact, Aziraphale presses into him even more firmly, until the demon is almost struggling to move at all.  _ And he loves it _ . He loves the way angel is forcing their bodies together, pressure building in all the right places. It nearly hurts, but it’s  _ so good _ . Crowley grabs at one of Aziraphale’s hands, guiding the angel’s fingers towards his throat.

Aziraphale glances at him for a moment, not entirely sure what Crowley is asking of him. The demon takes hold of his wrist and opens the angel’s hand. He presses Aziraphale’s palm against the center of his throat, just over his adam’s apple, and the angel’s fingers instinctively wrap around the front of Crowley’s neck. The redhead lets out an encouraging moan and Aziraphale slightly tightens his grip. Ordinarily, the thought of someone grabbing him by the throat would be frightening, but with Aziraphale, it’s beautiful, it’s possessive, it’s...it’s…

_ Oh, it does things to him _ . And suddenly, Crowley’s struggling to buck his hips against the angel once more, whining at the combination of harsh pressure against the front of his hips and gentle pressure against the front of his throat. It’s not quite enough to hurt him, just enough to slowly drive him mad. Time threatens to start again as Aziraphale runs his other hand along the top of Crowley’s thigh. The demon almost can’t take it as the blonde kisses him again, lips now feather-light against his own. 

Crowley groans in frustration as the angel continues his teasing onslaught of gentle kisses, peppering the demon’s face with light brushes of his lips. The redhead almost doesn’t believe it as he starts to come completely undone as something so...so  _ soft. _ For all the strength the angel exerts against Crowley’s body, the rough, nearly painful pressure that had been enough to consume him before—it doesn’t even touch what Aziraphale now does to him tenderly. 

His kisses are light and so full of love. The pressure against Crowley’s hips lessens, and the demon whines. Even the possessive hand clamped over his throat seems gentler now, the thumb and fingers on either side of his neck manage to softly caress his skin. Crowley wants it to stop, but at the same time the thought of losing contact with the angel is enough make tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

He would take anything—any amount of rough treatment and hands gripping him hard enough to leave bruises—over this. And yet, he finds himself melting into Aziraphale’s touch. A part of Crowley wants nothing more than for the angel to claim him.  _ And he is _ , the demon realizes. Aziraphale is claiming him—every inch of him—as beautifully and as lovingly as the angel can. 

He winds his arms around Aziraphale’s neck, kissing him back and letting his body arch into the angel’s. His hips are pressed entirely flush with Aziraphale’s when something unexpected catches his attention. He pulls away just enough to look at the angel. Crowley wasn’t sure when it happened, but there’s been a  _ change _ in the angel’s corporationl, and suddenly it’s all he can think about.

“Are you...Are you making an  _ effort _ ?” he asks quietly. 

A small blush makes it way across Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry my dear. It’s just...I could feel yours and I thought that maybe you’d want me to—”

And just like that time starts up again. Crowley simply can’t bear it anymore. Every nerve ending in his body feels like it’s going to burst if Aziraphale doesn’t keep touching him—anywhere,  _ everywhere _ —right now. With a final coherent thought, Crowley snaps his fingers and they vanish from the hallway.

They find themselves in the back of Crowley’s Bentley, the demon sprawled out on the back seat and Aziraphale laying on top of him. The angel is surprised, but he seems to adjust rather quickly, leaning down to place another kiss on Crowley’s lips. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks quietly.

“Of course this a good idea angel. Now,  _ please _ ,” Crowley whines, pawing at Aziraphale’s shirt collar. 

“Yes but what about the people?”

“ _ Angel _ …”

Crowley tugs him down into a kiss, wrapping his legs around the angel’s hips. Aziraphale nearly looks like he’s going to say something else, but before he can get so much as a word out, Crowley grabs his face with both hands, peering into his eyes desperately. The demon silently begs the angel to give him what he needs.

“Are you positive you want this Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice is just a whisper now, warm and tender.

“Do I look like I’m having doubts?” Crowley hisses at him, tugging at the angel in the hope of getting another kiss.

Aziraphale’s eyes dart away for a moment. This is all so new, it’s all happening so fast and it makes the angel’s head spin with excitement. Crowley pulls Aziraphale out of his own head by rutting his hips upwards into the angel. Aziraphale can feel Crowley’s excitement, and delights at the new feeling, letting out a moan as he presses his lips against the demon’s.

“I need you angel,” Crowley breathes between kisses, “All of you... _ Now _ .” 

He manages to slide a hand between their torsos until it reaches a spot it’s never rested before, emphasizing Crowley’s point. A shiver travels down the blonde’s spine as the newest part of his body is met with an equally new sensation.

“Yes. I think you rather do,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

A few kisses, and several whines and whimpers from Crowley later, the demon finally gets what he wants. In the midst of it all, the idea of being spotted by the people nearby doesn’t come close to crossing either of their minds.  _ The windows of the car are too fogged up to see into the back seat anyway... _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it! It was a fun piece to write and I'm glad I finally decided to post it.   
Feel free to comment, any and all feedback is helpful!


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